Rightfully Invisible
by misscap.mischief
Summary: It might seem a bit cliche. A young girl with impressive mutative powers just happens to fall for the handsomely rugged bad, yet good guy. However, when disaster strikes close to her home, everything cliche gets thrown right out the window. The problem is, she doesn't have a home anymore. Logan/OC.
1. Prologue

I think I was normal once. Before I figured out my… gift, that is. At least I thought it was a gift. My family was a different story. I remember my mother hugging me. I remember my father cooking me French toast every Saturday morning. Most of all, I remember my sister taking me on walks with our dog. I have a younger brother as well, but he was too young to even remember who I was before I changed. That was the crescendo of my young life. Twelve years old, and I just got my first cell phone. It was a crappy little thing, too. Everything changed that April 3, my birthday if you were wondering. Some idiot just decided to break into our kitchen that evening. I remember my mother telling my sister to hide my brother and I. She had grabbed our brother, and motioned me to follow. I had huffed, telling her I could hide on my own. Then I did. I disappeared.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, lovelies! Well, if you attempted to read ****_Compatability Arrangement_****, you realized I put it on hiatus. Hunger Games left my brain. It was replaced with X-Men! I have a few fair warnings I have to give you about this new story. **

**It is an OC romance. It may or may not be a Mary Sue, but I write what comes to my brain. If my OC is a Mary Sue, it was the way she was meant to be written. I have a few chapters written out already, but I might fall behind a bit on the writing. School means a lot to me, and I write as a hobby. Instead of leaving me a "Please update! :)" kind of review, give me some critisism or advice. Those kinds of reviews will speed up my writing process, and will get more chapters and stories to you!**

**This story is set two years after ****_X-Men: The Last Stand_****. Magneto has not discovered that the cure does not work yet. (That might be in a sequel. I want new villains.) Jean is dead. However, I wanted to keep Scott/Cyclops alive for character and villain development. Also, I made a big desicion about Charles Xavier. I don't want to go too far off the plotline, but I decided to keep him alive as well. If you watch XMTLS, at the end of the credits, he ends up alive anyways so...**

**I dearly hope you enjoy this story. This little snippet is basically the prologue, and I am putting up the first chapter as you read! Leave me any sort of review, and I'll love you forever. **

**Yours,**

**Cap.**

**P.S. Sorry that this author's note was longer than the actual prologue. **


	2. Chapter One

"Hey, lady! You gonna pay for that?" turning towards the accented man, I smile.

"Of course, sir. Did it look like I was leaving?" I put an innocent look on. The man gives me a glare, starting towards me. I simply disappear, and continue down the street, away from the small farmer's market. I shove the stolen items, some food and such, into my messenger bag, my smile slipping from my face as I push away the guilt for what I had just done. Again. I sigh, and wipe a smooth hand over my face, brushing my raven black, looking blue hair away from my eyes. It wasn't as if I had any choice. I had no money, no place to go. I was actually a homeless person. Not even a nomad. Never in my life had I thought that I would end up scrounging for food and clothes. A place to rest, whether it be on a park bench or in an empty dumpster. I suppose I should be used to it. Isn't that a depressing thought? I've been homeless for three years, ever since my parents kicked me out when I turned eighteen. I also, unfortunately, lived in the most populated-by-homeless-people state in the United States. New York, the god-awful nest. A city full of power-hungry tycoons, and little girls dreaming of Broadway.

Today is different though. Today, I will finally get out of this hellhole. I'd much rather be homeless in the country setting of the state of New York than in the city. Today, it is Tuesday I think, I am going to walk. I am going to walk straight out of this city, and never look back. I had finally saved up enough food for at least a week, if not more. It's all in my messenger bag. My now slightly bulky messenger bag. My bag is the last thing I have from my past life, before my parents tossed me out. That's all going to change now. I can build a house. I have enough time on my hands after all. Then, I'll get a job. Obviously, it'll be a horrible paying job. Then I'll move up a little, to a slightly less horrible paying job. My life will continue. If things get rough, I'll tell myself: it can't get worse than before.

* * *

I've been on the road for nine days, three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and forty-three seconds. I was almost out of food. Several people, whether they were perverted assholes or genuinely nice people, had stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride somewhere. I decline, and continue my trek, sleeping in ditches. Thank God, it was May, or I'd of already frozen my limbs off out here. It is so quiet. Breaking the silence, I hear the familiar vroom of a motorcycle coming up behind me. As I expected, it stops right behind me.

"Hey! Need a lift?" it was a young male's voice, maybe early twenties. I hear his kickstand click, and what sounds like boots come scratching across the pavement. "Hey, kid. I'm talking to you," a strong hand grips my elbow, and I panic, disappearing at once, and slipping right through his hand. "Woah!"

"S-stay away!" I warn, my voice sounding odd to even my own ears. I turn to the man. He's tall, probably around 6'5 with dark messy hair and facial hair. The man is wearing what look like a white wife beater underneath a long-sleeved plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up his muscular arms. He steps closer, his hands out in the universal sign of surrender, but his face is contorted with anger.

"Listen, girly. It's okay. I won't hurt ya," he says, trying to calm down.

"How reassuring," I say shakily, running, and flipping up a tree without rustling the leaves.

"Listen to me, kid. I know you don't believe me, but it's okay," he takes a deep breath. "I know how you're feeling right now," he says. I laugh sarcastically, and his head snaps to where I'm sitting.

I flip back out of the tree, and land lightly on my feet, dashing behind him to say, "How would _you_ know how _I_ feel," I whisper pitifully. With reflexes like lightning, he spins around and reaches for where he thinks my body is. He ends up grabbing my shoulders, but I simply slip out of his hands, walking through his body and become visible again. He spins around, and I go into a defensive stance, praying for those karate classes my dad made me take when I was ten to come back to me. Surprisingly though, the man doesn't attack.

"Kid, it's all right," he says softly, slowly moving towards me. I back away, turning invisible again. "I'm like you are," he states.

There is a moment of dead silence. I didn't want to believe him. Many mutants didn't live in New York anymore, at least the cities. There were too many people who still detested them, and they preferred living in isolated places like Iowa or Oklahoma. Instead of saying anything, I just slowly bloom back into visibility.

"W-what do you mean?" I ask uncertainly. He doesn't move.

"I mean exactly what I said. I'm like you. Different," his voice is gravelly, bordering on a growl. Then, he slowly starts moving towards me. I try desperately not to flinch. "It's gonna be okay. I'll take you somewhere safe," he says. My guard is instantly up.

"I'll go nowhere with you!" I shout, making my feet sink slightly into the road.

"You have a right to be cautious. That's good. You need to be like that, but not with me. I can take you somewhere safe, somewhere you're accepted," he pushes. By this point, I'm ankles deep in the road.

"No," I reply unevenly. He doesn't say a thing. He moves his left hand to the side of his brown belt, pressing down on it. I regard his actions coolly, and think of if I should run.

"Don't be afraid of what I'm about to show you," he says slowly. I am alarmed, immediately thinking of scenarios where his clothes are all over the road in front of me. I blink frantically, getting the images out of my head. Instead of reaching for his belt buckle, he makes two fists with his hands, and slowly but surely six lethal looking blades start coming out of the skin between his knuckles. There are three on each hand, all looking shiny, sharp, and deadly. "It'll be okay. I won't hurt you," he assures. Suddenly, there is the squeal of tires, and I look past the tall man to see two people getting out of a red Mercedes. There is a dark-skinned woman with short white hair, and a man with brown hair and red sunglasses.

"Jesus, Logan! Put those away!" the guy with the shades admonished. "You'll scare her to death!"

"Little too late," I mutter. 'Logan's' claws retract back into his hands, and the woman walks up to me. I walk backwards quickly, much to the chagrin of my clumsy factor, allowing me to trip over my feet and land soundlessly on my forearms, scraping them badly. "You keep away from me!" I exclaim, backing away and standing up quickly.

"It's okay, sweetie. I won't hurt you," she reassures.

"Oh, yeah? Like lumberjack over there wasn't about to just rip my kidneys out and eat them for brunch?!" I exclaim. The guy with the shades then proceeds to crack up, laughing his ass off, and pointing at 'Logan'.

"She- she called you a l-lumberjack!" he sputters. 'Logan' growls at shades-guy, unsheathing his claws once again.

"Stop it! You are horrible, both of you!" the white-haired female scolds like a mother. She turns back to me, "I know, and he's stupid for showing you that. We know that you're a mutant, and we want to help you," she says in a motherly tone. I look into her eyes to see if she is lying, and my own eyes widen in disbelief when I find complete truthfulness in her gaze.

"H-he said he could take me somewhere safe," I say.

"Yes!" she brightens. "We can, if you'll let us. No one will hurt you there, and we will help you," she says. I take a slow step towards her.

"You're not lying," I state. She shakes her head, and motions for both men to come up to us. I flinch back, sinking into the road.

"Scott, call the school and tell Rogue to prepare a room in the girls' wing," the woman says to shades-guy. Scott goes back to the Mercedes and sits in the driver's seat, talking on a cell phone. "Come along," the woman motions to me, and then walks ahead to the fancy car. Logan looks at me, his claws back in his hands.

"I wasn't tryin' to scare ya," he says. "I needed you to see that we're in the same boat. No one wants a Wolverine prowlin' 'round the humans," he says. I take a wary step forward, and he holds out his hand. "I ain't gonna hurt you, Blue," he says softly. I respond by taking his much larger hand with my small one.

* * *

**A/N: So? Am I off to a good start? Her mutation, and her name will obviously be explained later. How do you feel about her? I know her mutation seems all fine and dandy, especially compared to Rogue, but trust me. I feel like I can add in some disadvantages to her seemingly great mutation. I beg of you to leave a review, and maybe a favorite. It might be too early to favorite, but certainly not too early to review. The next update will come in a few days, or weeks. (Reviews permitting.)**

**Yours,**

**Cap.**

**P.S. I just found out that _X-Men: Days of Future Past_ is set to release in 2014. And _The Wolverine, _obviously starring Hugh Jackman, is releasing in July. HOLY GIANT FREAKING TORTOISE. Can we all just agree that Hugh Jackman is the finest piece of forty-three-year-old flesh to walk this green Earth?**


	3. Chapter Two

"Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," the woman who introduced herself as Storm says. I look skeptically up at the mansion, and around the grounds.

"I d-don't need to go to school," I say. "I've finished high school already, and I obviously can't afford college," I say.

"We know," Scott says. "We don't go to school, we teach here," he adds. Logan barely offers a grunt, and the three of them lead me into the pretentious looking building. We are in a foyer with hallways leading to both the left and right. Just then, two teenagers walk through, and I see the profile of the boy. He's walking with a dark-haired girl with white bangs, holding her hand.

"Iceman," Logan growls out, and the boy turns to Logan. His gaze is frosty from having his conversation being interrupted.

"What?" he snarls. I jump at his tone, and launch myself behind Logan, my unnatural speed propelling me into his back slightly. This was obviously completely unnecessary, as I could have just disappeared right in the spot where I was standing. This is scary. This place. It's perfectly polished, not a trinket out of place. Logan grunts when he feels my tiny, shaking hands on his back, avoiding the calculating glare of Iceman.

"I was just gettin' your attention, Frostbite," Logan growls. Iceman glares, and whom I'm assuming is his girlfriend, steps around him.

"Logan!" she exclaims in a southern accent. "Where you been?" she asks a bit desperately. "You've been gone for two months?"

"Just savin' damsels. You know very well how that is," Logan replies, looking at me over his shoulder. The girl blushes a scarlet red, and giggles.

"Rogue, Bobby! Shouldn't you two be in class?" Scott says scathingly.

"We ain't been in a class for six months, Cyclops," the girl rolls her eyes, and returns her attention back to Logan. "Is this the new girl?" she tries to peek around Logan's broad frame.

"That isn't any of your business at the moment, Rogue," Storm replies, motioning me to follow her. I step cautiously around Logan to follow the dark-skinned beauty.

"You tol' me to make her room up! It's my business!" Rogue argues like a toddler. I instantly turn invisible at the slight screech in her voice. "Hey, where'd she go?"

"Rogue, go to lunch with Bobby. If our guest wishes to introduce herself, then she will," a deep voice resonates from around the corner. Suddenly, a bald man in a wheelchair comes around the corner, a smile playing at his wrinkled mouth.

"Yes, professor," Rogue says dejectedly. She walks off with Iceman, who I'm assuming is Bobby.

"You can come out now, my dear," the old man says kindly. I slowly bloom back into visibility, and try to steady my shaking hands.

"Come on. I'll take you to your room," Storm motions for me again, and I step towards her, sending a worried glance over my shoulder at Logan, Scott, and the old man. Soon they are out of sight, and Storm is silent as she climbs the first flight of stairs. "The ground floor is where all of the classrooms, the café, and the doors leading to the gardens are. This second floor is the boys' wing, including the male teachers. The third is the girls'. The east wing off the second floor is where the professor's office is, as well as the elevator leading to the roof and basement. In the west wing is a library, and there are offices as well as another library in the east and west wings of the third floor," Storm explains to me. We pass up the second floor, and at a glance, I see a few boy students meandering around the hallways. The both of us continue up to the third floor, and Storm leads me down the first corridor, opening the fifth door on the left. "This will be your room for as long as you stay here. You have your own private bathroom. The professor thought that you wouldn't want to share with a student," Storm smiles slightly.

"T-thank you," I stutter. The room is very luxurious, complete with fine crown molding, and chrome doorknobs. All I wanted to do was take a very hot shower, and climb into the huge bed provided on the right side of the room.

"I read up on your file to see what you liked, and went ahead and went shopping for you. If you don't like something then just toss it, and we can go buy more clothes whenever you like," Storm says.

"I have a file here?" I ask in an astonished tone. Storm blushes slightly, but it was hard to tell with her dark skin.

"I expect that the professor will want to explain that bit to you," she says. "Just settle in, and get cleaned up. If you want to meet with him, you can go to his office. If you get lost, just ask one of the younger kids. They're typically more helpful," Storm gives me one last smile, and then leaves me in the foreign room that smells strangely of pineapples, which happens to be my favorite fruit.

"Shower," I say to myself, going over to the wardrobe, and scanning through Storm's choices. Surprisingly, most of the clothing she bought is the type I would wear. Shaking my head, I take out some lingerie, and head to the bathroom on the right, deciding to dress after I shower. Opening the door to the bathroom, I let out a small gasp at the mere size of the room. It is furnished with a full vanity, large mirror, toilet, claw-foot bathtub, glass shower, and towel warmer. The tile is ceramic finish, and the walls are painted a tasteful red. I slip out of my grimy clothing, stuffing them into the large wastebasket, and turn on the shower as hot as it will go. The shower is stocked with an actual waterproof cupboard filled with many soaps, shampoos, and conditioners. I spend a good two hours in the shower, scraping my skin and hair clean of all the dirt and filth I acquired from hitchhiking, as well as shaving my legs and underarms. When I finally step out, the room is full of steam, the mirror foggy and humid. I grab a towel off the towel warmer, and dry myself, leaving my wavy hair to air dry. At last, I put on the undergarments, and then a short robe that was hanging on the back of the door. I head out into the bedroom, digging through the wardrobe and grabbing some ripped skinny jeans, and a plain white tee shirt. I tuck the shirt into the jeans, and pull some Nike socks on. A pair of white Converse completes my simple look, and I head out of the room.

"Who's that?" "New girl!" "Where's her makeup?" I hear many different whispering voices from the females occupying the dorms around me. I make my way to the staircase, walking down them without a sound. As the whispers continue, I just decide to disappear, continuing on to where I think the professor's office is.

_"My office is the third door on the right from where you are,"_ a deep voice that I recognize as the professor's enters my head. I jump in a panic and crash into a small table that is holding a vase of tall, pink carnations. The table topples over, sending the beautiful blooms into a wet frenzy on the hardwood floors. A resonating _smash _shatters the empty silence that was the hallway. All of a sudden, I hear hurried footsteps coming down the hall, and I turn, slightly disoriented, to see a teenager with large, fluffy, white wings sprouting from his back, a gigantic man whose muscles seemed to have muscles, and Logan, who was leading the group of three. I'm quite sure that I am hallucinating. Just in case that I am not, I make myself visible.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Those were for the new girl," the boy with wings scolds. I glare up at him.

"Thanks for the flowers, Flyboy," I say sarcastically. I get up, picking a small piece of glass out of my hand, wincing as I do so.

"What happened?" Logan's deep voice growls. I jump, briefly flashing invisible.

"There was this voice in my head. It scared me," I say simply.

"Storm didn't tell you?" Logan asks with a confused expression. I look at him blankly, and he sighs, grabs my arm, and tugs me down three doors to a set of double wooden doors. "Storm, why didn't you tell her about Chuck's mind reading?" Logan asks as he bangs the doors open, leading me inside. In the room, there is Scott, Storm, the professor whose name has escaped me, a young boy with blue ears, and Flyboy. The giant must have wandered off after seeing me nearly decapitate myself with a vase of flowers.

"Thank you, Justin. You may leave," the professor tells the blue-eared kid. He runs off, leaving me in a room full of staring people. I make it easier on myself, and just disappear. "Please come out, Ms. Preston," he says gently.

"How do you all know so much about me?" I ask scornfully, reappearing near the window where no one is standing.

"We all have mutations here, Ms. Preston. Some that are more obvious than others," the professor looks at Flyboy pointedly. I give him a look that said 'get on with it'. "However, my mutation has to do with that of the mind. I am mind-powerful. I can control other people's minds, and I can, to put it bluntly, read minds. The voice that frightened you so, was my voice, in your head. I apologize that I scared you, and I hope that you can forgive me," the professor's voice is almost melodic as he explains this to me.

"W-what about their mutations?" I ask timidly, eyeing everyone else in the room.

"Ororo Munroe, or better known as Storm, is a mutant who possesses the psionic ability to manipulate weather patterns over limited areas," the professor said simply. "Warren obviously has the ability to fly," the blond teenager looks at me, and nods, trying not to scare me.

"I k-know about Logan's cl… c…" I can't seem to get the words out of my mouth.

"Claws," Logan growls. I flash invisible at his rough voice, and nod.

"Logan also has the ability to heal himself rapidly when injured," the professor adds. "Scott," he nods to the still sunglasses-clad man. "Scott possesses the ability to project a powerful beam of concussive, ruby-colored energy from his eyes," my own eyes widen at the description. I glance at Scott, who is looking down at the floor.

"That explains the shades," I say softly.

"Could you explain your mutation?" the professor asks kindly.

"I don't have a fancy term for it, like you do. I simply disappear," I say.

"What about when ya slipped right through my fingers earlier today?" Logan asks a bit angrily.

"I suppose my mutation designed me as the perfect person to evade captivity. I think the scientific term would be that I can rearrange my body's molecules, allowing me to move through solid objects. I am also unnaturally quiet and light in body weight," I explain.

"Or ya just haven't eaten anything decent in a few years," Logan scoffs. I wince at his tone, remembering the _snikt _sound that his claws had made when they were sliding out of his skin. The professor ignores his comment.

"My full name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I built this school years ago for a place where mutants could live without the pressing eyes of society on them," Charles says. There is a pregnant moment of silence.

"I-I'd like to stay here," I say. "For a little while," I add quickly, not wanting to insinuate that I'd be able to stay forever, which is what I wanted.

"Stay as long as you like," Storm says excitedly.

"So you can read my mind," I state. Everyone nods, "But how did you know where I was out on the road?" I ask.

"I have a machine called Cerebro. Cerebro can read the mutant signatures of every single mutant on the planet. I am constantly searching for mutants in distress or danger, as well as the dangerous mutants. I saw you on Cerebro, and immediately sent Storm and Scott after you. It was just coincidence that Logan happened to be coming back from his _lengthy_ vacation," the professor shoots a look at the tall, rugged man, who ignores it. Again, there is a moment of silence as I process this information.

"Could… could I perhaps get something to eat now?" I ask timidly, desperately wanting to get out of the spacious office.

"Certainly. Logan, will you show her the kitchen?" Charles asks. Logan grunts and simply walks out of the room. I follow, trailing around five feet behind him.

"You can walk closer, kid," Logan says.

"I am not a child," I state, gaining a little confidence with the intimidating man. "I am twenty-one years old, and probably only a few years younger than you, so stop calling me 'kid'," I command. He laughs huskily, throwing an amused look back at me.

"That's where you're wrong, _Wendy_," he uses my first name, and I briefly wonder how he could have possibly known that. "I'm over two-hundred years old," he says with an emotionless voice. I gape, and rush to get a little closer to him.

"What? How is that possible?" I ask with an incredulous tone.

"Kitchen," he ignores my question, opening up a wooden door, and walking inside the room. The kitchen was spacious with many storage cabinets, a large refrigerator, as well as an island with a built-in sink. I go over to the fridge and open it, rummaging around for something I could eat. There is a box of leftover pepperoni pizza, some cold cuts, pickles, condiments, and bottled water. I look in the cabinets that aren't filled with plates and find cereal, peanut butter, plastic forks, and barbeque potato chips. I grab the box of pizza, yanking four slices out. I sit down at the island, and eat the crusts first. Then, I take the bag of barbeque chips and dump an amount onto two of the slices of pizza, and put the other two slices on top of those, forming a barbeque pizza sandwich. I devour my concoction, fully aware that Logan has been staring at me since I walked to the fridge.

"Pictures last longer," I finally break the silence.

"Then take one," he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk. I say nothing, throwing my trash away, and looking in the freezer, praying for some rocky road. I come up empty, and slam the door shut.

"Well this has been great," I sigh. "You know, eating junk food with you watching me whilst I eat said junk food," Logan says nothing, and an awkward silence ensues. His brown eyes are giving me a piercing stare, and I blush slightly under his gaze. His smirk grows larger, and I can tell that he's about to say something smart when the door to the kitchen opens, and Bobby appears, hesitating when he sees the two of us in the room.

"Interrupting?" he asks simply.

"Um… no. Well, bye then," I say awkwardly, making myself disappear, and leaving the room.

* * *

**A/N: Hi, guys! So now you know her name. I know I threatened to wait for more reviews, but I just couldn't wait to put this next chapter up. This all might seem a bit boring without any romance or action here at the beginnig, but trust me. I assure you it will get interesting. **

**How am I doing with the characters' personalities? I think I captured them quite well, and if there is a character element you'd like me to add, let me know. As always, remember to review. Tell me the good, the bad, and obviously the ugly.**

**Yours,**

**Cap.**

**P.S. Thanks to ****_smarty-wanna-party_**** for being my first review on this story. I absolutely love your penname. We can fangirl over Hugh Jackman together anytime, sweet pea. **


	4. Chapter Three

"You will need to begin training now that you're settled in," the professor and I are walking down the hallway to the elevators. He had said that he needed to show me something. It has been about three weeks since moving to the mansion.

"Yes, sir," I say, sarcastically saluting the bald man. Everyone has been very welcoming at the school, some more so than others. The girl, Rogue, continued to pester me with questions about myself. Bobby, or Iceman, liked to keep to himself, but we have had several interesting conversations in the dead of night whilst drowning ourselves in ice cream. Me, rocky road. Him, banana chocolate chip. I also learned that the big muscles guy from before was called Piotr Rasputin. I was told to call him Peter or Colossus. Flyboy, or Warren Worthington III aka Angel, is a very shy, very reserved guy. I haven't talked to him once since arriving. I met a girl that can walk through walls, Kitty Pride, as well as Dr. Hank McCoy, a large, blue, and furry mutant who ran tests on me about my mutations.

"Sometimes mutants are graced with several mutations, so your 'survival' factoring mutations could let another one pop up," Hank had said with an amused look behind his wire-rimmed glasses. The prospect of another mutation is exciting, and I sometimes wonder if it might be a horrifying one. I desperately didn't want yet another problem in my now almost normal life.

"This here is the machine I told you about," Charles broke my train of thought, though I'm sure he knew that. "Cerebro," he says proudly. We are standing in front of what I assume is a door. Charles wheels up to the door, stopping slightly before it.

"_Welcome, professor,_" an automated woman's voice says. I jump a little at the voice, but the door slides open quickly, granting us access to the vast room.

"We won't be using Cerebro," Charles reads my mind. "I only brought you down here to show you where I might be if a situation were to occur and you could not find me. When I am locked into Cerebro, it requires a enormous amount of concentration and focus, so I would not be able to tell you where I was," Charles explains, not going into the room.

"Thank you, professor," I say kindly. We leave the area, travelling down several hallways to a door with a large X on the front of it. There are muffled voices from behind the door, but I cannot make out who is talking.

"This is the Danger Room," Charles says.

"How ominous," I state. Charles chuckles slightly, and motions to a different door.

"That door leads to the observation deck. Someone will come for you after their simulation is complete. For now, I must return to the art classroom, for there seems to be an upheaval regarding some yellow paint," the professor takes his leave, and I am alone again. Walking up the stairs to the observation deck, I briefly reminisce at a time when I used to be artistic. I haven't picked up a paintbrush since I was kicked out my parent's house. Once I reach the fully see-through observation deck, I gasp at what I see inside the Danger Room. It's a picturesque scene of a serene jungle, reminding me once again of when I used to paint. There is a small control panel in the corner of the deck, but other than that there is nothing but seating for, well, observation. I sit in the front row of seats, gaping at the beautiful forest in front of me. Suddenly, the sky in the jungle gets darker, and a bright, full moon comes out. Then, I see Bobby, completely encased in ice, running out of the trees into the small clearing in front of me. He looks over his shoulder frantically, opening his mouth to call out. His voice is amplified into the observation deck, and I start at his voice.

"Rogue! Where are you? Storm?" he calls.

"Right here, sugar," Rogue comes storming out into the clearing from the opposite direction in which Bobby came from, Storm behind her. Bobby hugs her, being careful of any bare skin, and I smile at the moment the two teenagers share. I notice that all three of them are dressed in full-body leather suits.

"The jaguars are dead," Logan's gravelly voice fills the deck, and I feel a shiver go down my spine. He appears in the clearing, also wearing a suit. I feel the hair stand up on the back of my neck at the sight of him, and I shake my head quickly. "Chuck is obviously playin' us easy today," he says to the group.

"Well, you do have a session with Wendy after this. Maybe he's saving your strength," Storm playfully teases, and I perk up a little when they mention me.

"He'll need it," Bobby says playfully, pulling Rogue over to him by the hand.

"You shut up or I'll shatter ya," Logan growls.

"_Simulation: complete,_" the same woman's automated voice brought them out of their conversation, and I watched in amazement as the forest turned into a solid grey, spherical room. All of them traipse out of the room, and I wonder briefly who is coming to get me.

"Come on, Wendy. Logan's waiting," Storm's kind voice resonates throughout the room as she appears in the doorway. I get up, and follow her leather-clad form. "You two will be in the gym today, as it's your first day. Soon you'll be in the Danger Room with us," she smiles. I just nod, completely nervous, as I have next to no combat ability. I was good at running away, not fighting. Storm brings me to a large, open gym, complete with a full basketball court, as well as a boxing ring, and a line of punching bags. "Well, I'll leave you to it," Storm leaves me alone in the gym. Logan wasn't here, and I go over to the boxing ring, stepping into it and inhaling the familiar scent of glove sweat and hand tape. My older cousins had been boxers, and my father loved going to their matches. I had spent quite a lot of time with my older cousin Craig, as he didn't judge me for my mutation at the tender age of fourteen. He had been eighteen at the time, wanting a career as a fighter. Tears come to my eyes as I remember when we were in a ring just like this one, sitting, eating hot Cheetos, and talking about our futures. I can't even remember the last time I saw him.

"Hey, Blue, get outta there. You'll hurt yourself," I hear Logan say. I turn to see him now clad in charcoal grey sweatpants and a white wife beater. He hadn't showered, but he looked great nonetheless.

"I know how to handle a boxing ring, mutton chops," I bash his appearance. He simply growls at me while I step under the barriers surrounding ring. I actually don't mind his facial hair. It gives him a very rough quality, and makes him better looking. Again, I try to physically shake the thoughts of how attracted I am to him out of my head. _He lusts after a dead woman,_ I remind myself. Oh, yes. I know all about Jean Grey. Rogue had practically shoved every single fact she knew about every single person into my brain. This included Logan's shady past with Scott's late almost-fiancé.

"Hey, pay attention," Logan claps his large hands in front of my face, and I look up at him. "Today we're gonna take it slow. I just wanna see where your skills are," he says gruffly. "Not that they'll be too up to par," he mutters, thinking I can't hear him.

"Hey, jackass. My skills are quite 'up to par'," I lie. He just shakes his head, and gets into a fighting stance.

"Well then, come at me," he challenges with a wicked grin. I look over his stance, taking him in. I notice he has every area of his body defended, except his face, still sporting that stupid smirk.

"How do I know you're not gonna go all bear on me and slash my gut open with your claws?" I ask suspiciously.

"We have to get your physical strength up before we can use mutations, Blue," he says exasperatedly. "Now, give me your best shot," he growls.

"Whatever you say, tiger," I give him my best intimidating look before charging. I wait for him to swing at me, and when he does I duck, and jab him in the gut only for it to be blocked with his other arm. I spin to the left, kicking his right arm, making his left one go on defense. Then, I twist right quickly, spinning him around and around trying to find a weak spot. This was my only thought as I remembered Craig trying to teach me to fight.

"You can do better than that," Logan laughs at a weak punch I had aimed at his chest.

"Fight back!" I snarl. Suddenly, the entire 'fight' is turned up at least five notches. Logan's eyes darken, and I am forced back by several of his attacks. In his haste, he leaves his left side open, and I swirl around, kicking him in his kidney, and hopping onto his muscled back with my right arm locked around his neck. My movements are so swift, I surprise myself. Logan throws me off his back and into the ropes around the boxing ring, making me disoriented. I hear him charging at me, and he yells angrily as he slams his granite body into the ropes, snapping them and making the posts that they were attached to explode from the pressure. Bits of metal and rope are everywhere as Logan lands three more punches to my ribs and face, breaking every bone he touches.

"Logan!" I hear Rogue's desperate voice over the ringing in my ears, and I finally see Logan's chocolate eyes return to normal.

"Logan, you're killing her," the professor says calmly, as if talking about what he had for dinner last night. My body radiates pain, and I can feel blood pooling around all of my injuries, which are plentiful. I am sobbing without realizing it, my sobs making my body hurt even more. The more pain I feel, the closer I get to succumbing to it. With a final shudder of my shoulders, I dramatically pass out, leaving Logan to look at my broken body.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys! It's been a little while. How did you like this chapter? I tried to add a little drama there at the end where Logan goes feral! I've got a few questions for you... How would you like me to progress Wendy and Logan's relationship? Obviously there will be a strain because he nearly pulverized her into nonexistence, but I mean after that. Also, I've read stories where Jean comes back to life ****_again._**** I don't think I'm going to do this, but what do you think? Extra drama? I've already been plotting my villains for this story, and I'll be writing a whole lot more now that it's summer!**

**Please, please, please leave me reviews on what you thought, and what you didn't like. I don't want to go another month without writing just because I'm not getting feedback!**

**Yours,**

**Cap.**

**P.S. Thanks to ****_GoldenHeartz11, Anna, _****and ****_xmen4life _****for reviewing, and please continue to leave me feedback!**


	5. Chapter Four

"Honey? Honey, it's time to wake up," I hear a fuzzy voice enter my head.

"What?" I grumble, sitting up on the soft pillows that are strangely unrecognizable. Opening my eyes, I see a tall man standing beside the bed I'm sitting in. I'm in a large master bedroom, completely furnished with every elegant piece of furniture I've ever seen on home television. "Who-who are you? What's going on? Logan?" I panic, throwing off the sheets, and get off the bed opposite of the man.

"Wendy? Honey, what's wrong?" the man says in a concerned, but slightly smug voice.

"Who are you?" I ask, frightened. In my fear, I try to disappear, only to find that I can't.

"Honey, it's me. It's Milo. Your husband?" his voice is now thoroughly concerned, and I feel a dark hole start to form in my chest.

"Husband? Husband? I don't have a husband! Where's Logan?" I demand.

"Okay, we need to get you to a doctor. You must have hit your head or something last night before I got home. Come on, get dressed," Milo begins pulling out some dark slacks and a teal sweater from the drawers, something I would never, ever wear.

"No!" I exclaim, backing farther away from him. I shake my head, giving the illusion that I was just being stupid. "God, Milo. I'm sorry. It was all a horrible dream," I try to be as convincing as I can.

"Honey, you scared me," he pouts, putting the clothes back. "No matter. I've already prepared breakfast. Mushroom omelets, your favorite," Milo smiles at me, and walks out of the bedroom.

"I hate mushrooms," I think out loud. "What the hell is going on?" I question. I look around the room quickly for a phone. I see a cell phone on the bedside table and unlock it, seeing a picture of myself and Milo as the screensaver. I shudder briefly, and go to the contacts. I'm astonished to see my mom and dad's old cell phone numbers saved into the phone, and looking further, I see my sister's, and my Aunt Sharon's. "Storm had a cell phone," I urgently try to remember her number, but come up with nothing.

"Honey! It's getting cold!" Milo yells up the stairs.

"Okay!" I yell back. "Okay," I mutter quietly. "Think, Wendy," I say to myself. I go to Google on the cell phone and type in _Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters_. Several schools named Xavier pop up, but none of what I want. I then type in _Professor Charles Xavier_ and again, the professor is not in any of the search results. "Damn, what is going on?" I feel tears prick my eyes, and I try even harder this time to disappear. I feel my fingers almost flicker out of existence, but nothing happens.

"Are you not hungry, Wendy?" Milo says from the doorway.

"Uh, no. No, I'm not. Sorry. I just want to take a shower," I tell him. He gives me a questioning look.

"You never shower in the morning," he states. _Who doesn't shower in the morning, _I think.

"Well, that dream got me feeling a little icky, so I feel like I should shower," I make up an excuse, and open a door on the side of the bedroom, praying it leads to a bathroom. Thankfully, my assumptions are correct.

"You want me to join you?" Milo gives me a look, and I blanch in disgust.

"No, no, no, I'm fine, just, go and go d-downstairs," I run into the ensuite bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. I almost scream when I turn to the mirror, and see that my black hair has been dyed a retched caramel color. I can see my raven colored roots though, so I know everything isn't completely out of whack. I then continue my search of anything familiar via the Internet. I search for Storm, Scott, and I even go as far as searching for Jean Grey. When I finally find something, it's about Bobby Drake. I click on the link of _Odyssey High School_ and see that Bobby has already graduated. He set state records in cross-country and swimming. There is no record on the school website that he changed schools during high school. I feel deep fear sink into my gut. This can't be right. Xavier's has to exist. Hell, Charles Xavier has to exist. What happened? Was it all a dream? Do I not have my mutation anymore? Knowing that I can't stay in the bathroom for much longer, I jump into the provided shower, and take ten minutes to shampoo my hair.

"Baby, your mother's here! She dropped off some cookies," Milo' voice travels through the door, and my breath catches in my throat.

"O-okay," I say back, toweling off, and getting into a pair of sweatpants I deemed safe along with a white tee shirt. These clothes were the only thing remotely close to what I would actually wear. I walk down the stairs, cautious. I haven't seen my mom in four years, well, before I woke up that is.

"Sweetheart, what are you wearing?" her sickly-sweet voice floats to my ears. I look up to see my mother, dressed in a pantsuit along with Milo, dressed in slacks and a green button-down.

"Uh, I'm not feeling very well, and this looked comfortable?" I ask, feeling small. My mother certainly hasn't changed in this universe. She is still the same scary woman I knew from when I received my mutation. _Wendy,_ I hear a deep voice in my head, and I recognize it as Logan's!

"Oh, well, okay. I'm disappointed in you, dear. Milo, the hard-working man, got up at seven to make your favorite breakfast," she says in a spiteful tone. _Wendy, I'm so sorry, _Logan's voice is soft, and desperate. I try to find the source of his voice, but I cannot find it.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter to the illusion of my mother, and listen harder for Logan's gruff tone.

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor, Wendy?" Milo asks anxiously. I absentmindedly shake my head, and break out in a grin when I hear Logan's voice say, _please, come back to me, Blue._

"It's a dream!" I exclaim to my mother and Milo. "Oh, thank God. I was beginning to think that I really had lost my mutation," I laughed at the very idea, and Milo and my mother both gave me crazy looks.

"Okay, that's it!" Milo yells unexpectedly. "Call Dr. Grimshaw, Beverly," he orders my mother.

"I don't need a doctor, you idiot. I'm dreaming, and you're not real," I state rather bluntly.

"Gwendolyn! How dare you speak that way to your husband!" my mother reprimands. _She's just having nightmares, Logan. That's a sign she'll wake up soon. _I praise God again when I hear the professor's voice in my head.

"Oh, shut up, mother," I wave my hand dismissively. Milo stalks over to me and takes me by the shoulders, shaking me violently.

"Stop it this instant! Wake up, you stupid woman! This is not a dream!" he pushes me to the floor, and then pulls me up again. "You're crazy! Wake up!" he throws me down again and everything goes black.

* * *

"Wake up, Blue. I need you here. I'm so sorry, and things have been so horrible since I hurt you," Logan's voice is the first thing I hear as I begin to wake up. When I realize that it's actually his voice, and not just some quiet whisper in my brain, I bolt up, and search for him.

"Wendy!" Storm's voice is there too. Logan is right beside the hospital bed I'm situated on, and I launch myself at him, knocking him to the chrome floor with a thud.

"Logan, oh God. Thank God it's you," I say frantically into his neck as I squeeze him around his broad shoulders.

"Blue, it's okay! Are ya okay, darlin'?" his voice flows like honey to my ears, and I try not to start crying as I remember Milo's calculating tone, and my mother's daunting one. Logan sits up with me still in his arms, and he cradles me against his chest.

"It-it was horrible, L-Logan," I let out a sob, trying to keep my composure.

"What happened, Wendy?" Logan and I both look up to see the professor in his wheelchair. "You blocked off your mind of me, Wendy. Even in your sleep," he says painfully. I begin full out sobbing now, and Logan clutches me closer to his body.

"M-my hair was brown, Logan, and-and I had a disgusting husband, and I couldn't disappear, and I couldn't find you, and I just- I just couldn't find you, Logan!" I look at his completely confused face, and he lifts a rough hand to my flushed face, wiping away my tears.

"I'm here. I'm right here, darlin'," he says softly, just like when he said my name in the nightmare. "Look, I'm right here," he points to his chest, "Your hair's blue," he fingers my onyx locks, "And I'll tear apart any husband you ever have," he growls with a smirk, pulling me back into a hug. "Try to disappear now," he says. I barely have to put in any effort before I can't see my arms locked around him anymore. I become visible again, and try to calm down.

"I would very much like to know about this development," Charles says quietly, not wanting to interrupt our moment. "Once you've fully calmed, I will return with some lunch, and some explanations," the professor leaves Logan and I alone. I continue to cry in Logan's arms, trying to erase the memory of Milo's crazed eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, readers! Nice to see you all again! What do you think of this chapter? I know you might be a bit confused about her nightmare, but trust me, it matters! Sorry that Logan is a little OOC in this chapter, but let's face it. He cannot resist the pull of LOOOOVE. **

**Once again, PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE. I will make the story more interesting if you review! You don't have to review just the story! Give me advice and feedback on the individual chapters! Love me, hate me, I don't care. Just review.**

**Yours,**

**Cap.**

**P.S. Thanks to ****_Epic Elven Warrior Princess _****and ****_Guest_**** for reviewing! ****_Guest,_**** if you're reading this, I am so happy that you noticed my barbecue pizza sandwich, and love it too! Leave me a cool penname next time you review. XD**

**P.P.S. Milo is not my main villain. FYI. Milo is such a weird name, isn't it?**


	6. Chapter Five

"Come on, tiger! I know it'll be fine this time," I try to argue with Logan, but he's grouchy today so I'm not making much progress.

"I said no, Blue. I won't fight ya. Scooter will be takin' over your training, and nothin' you say will change my mind!" Logan rumbles.

"It was one little mistake, Logan. I know, for sure, you'll be fine!" I try to convince him. I grab his forearm to stop him from walking any further down the hall. "I trust you," I say with conviction.

"Lemme think about it," Logan says sarcastically. "No!" he takes me by my shoulders and keeps me from arguing back. "I almost killed ya, Wen. Did ya ever even think about that?" he asks.

"No, I really didn't, Logan. I know that wasn't you!" he scoffs and lets go of me. "Okay, that was you, but not the real you. Not the real Logan I know," I say.

"Who was is then? The fake Logan?" he snarls. I sigh, and take his hand cautiously.

"I saw it in your eyes, Logan. They were dark and… animalistic. You weren't in your right mind," I say.

"Who's to say I'll be in my right mind this time around?" he asks.

"I say. I know you will," I tell him, squeezing his hand. Something flashes in his eyes, and he yanks his hand away from me.

"Still not gonna change my mind. See you in the mornin'," he then heads up to his bedroom, and leaves me in the hallway.

* * *

_A brief look into the mind of one James Logan Howlett…_

I can't get her damn blue eyes outta my head. Gwendolyn Renee Preston is now constantly on my mind. Every time I look at her face, or even think about her, I hear another woman's voice inside my head.

_Go to her. Be with her. Forget about me, _she says. The thing is, I've never heard the lady's voice in my entire life. At least from what I can remember. That must be it. I can't remember her because she was from my past life. The one that died along with William Stryker.

* * *

"Hey, professor. We get MSG on the television, right?" I ask Charles.

"Of course, my dear. Why do you ask?" I smirk.

"I gotta get ready for the game tonight," I say, motioning to my red, white, and blue sweater.

"Ah, of course. I would choose the west lounge. That one is usually unoccupied," Charles smiles at me, and I leave his office in pursuit of game-time snacks. The previous day was when Xavier told me what my horrible nightmare might be about.

"Your mind could have created an alternate universe inside your head while you went through a traumatic event, like Logan beating you like he did," Charles had said. I remember thinking, _thank God, Logan isn't in here, or he would've gone feral all over again._

"But it's not real, right?" I ask him.

"It is most likely impossible," he responds.

"Most likely?"

"The only way it could become true is if you met a mutant with the ability to make dreams a reality. And that mutant would have to be very angry at you," Xavier says with a slight smile. "However, I looked on Cerebro, and I discovered only seven mutants with the ability or something similar, and they are nowhere near New York," he reassures me. With that, I was fully convinced I was in no danger from either 'Milo' or my deranged mother. Once I reach the kitchen, I gather up some chips and salsa, along with a jar of pickles, several cans of Bud Light, and a leftover cupcake from one of the younger kid's birthday parties. I make my way to the west lounge, dump all of my junk food onto the coffee table, and turn on the large TV to MSG to watch the New York Rangers vs. the Chicago Blackhawks in the conference finals of the Stanley Cup playoffs. This is where Rogue, Peter, Logan, and Bobby found me; yelling at the TV until I turn blue in the face.

"Get to the puck! Jesus, Nash, you'd think you could skate for a change! Get to the blue line, you idiot! Deep, deep! Now go get it, good lord!" I'm in the middle of a rant, stuffing the last bit of chocolate cupcake into my mouth.

"Um, what are you doing, Wendy?" Bobby asks innocently.

"Shhhh! Be quiet, you imbecile. I need to hear the commentating. The horrible, wretched, commentating. God, can't they fire Pierre anytime soon?" I ask the four of them.

"We don't have a clue what you're talking about, Wen," Bobby says, taking Rogue's hand, and leaving the room.

"I do!" Peter plops down on the couch, and we talk strategies while the game goes to a commercial timeout.

"Never woulda pegged you for a hockey fan, Blue," Logan grabs one of my beers, and pops it open with a claw, taking a long swig, and falling back onto one of the recliners.

"Born and bred," I reply. "My dad had me skating before I could walk," I tell them. The game comes back on, and I shush them again to hear. Soon, the second period had ended, with the game tied 3-3. I run to the kitchen to grab another couple beers for Logan and I. The third period starts, and Peter and I are back to yelling at the television screen while Logan watches us, just drinking his beer.

"No, don't go up the left!" Peter exclaims. The buzzer sounds, announcing that there will be overtime. I sit through intermission, and the first ten minutes of overtime biting my nails.

"No, no, no," I mutter as Jonathan Toews, captain of the Blackhawks takes it up the right wing. He makes a cross-ice pass, which is one-timed by Marian Hossa. I inhale sharply, and exhale when I see that Henrik Lundqvist, the Ranger's goalie, blockers it away. Carl Hagelin snatches it up, and takes off down to the opposite end of the ice. "What speed that kid has," I say as he weaves through the Blackhawks defense. He takes it around the net, passing it through the paint to Ryan Callahan, the Ranger's captain, and he shoots to the upper ninety, making a magnificent goal. "Hahahaha, yeah, baby!" I jump up, and spill pickle juice all over Peter's shirt, but he doesn't mind because he just jumps up to hug me too.

"What round is it?" Logan asks in the midst of our celebration.

"Only game three, but we're up 2-1 in the series!" I rejoice. Soon, tensions die down, and I'm passed out on the couch.

* * *

**A/N: Hola, mis amigos. What's up guys? How're you doing? I know this chapter was just a filler, but I feel like you got some sorta-answers about the whole dream thing. Sorry about going all hockey fanatic on you guys, but if any of you follow hockey, you know the Rangers are done for the season, as they lost to the Boston Bruins. So, I just had to transfer them to a happier universe, and make them win! **

**As always, please review! This is a boring chapter, granted, but I love your comments anyways.**

**Yours,**

**Cap.**

**P.S. Thank you to ****_Risika Kiisu Seto _****and ****_BeautifulAngel _****for leaving me nice, long reviews. You guys rock. Period. Also thanks to ****_aby14a _****and ****_shelly7rox_**** for your reviews. Although, ****_shelly7rox,_**** I'm sure that this was a complete accident, but I just wanted to inform you that my OC's name is Wendy, not Danni! Glad you loved the OC interaction, though!**

**P.P.S. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**


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